Virus
by Amata19
Summary: Post Revolutions. Smith wakes up...not deleted...he feels very different. Could he be human?. A Virus?.
1. Why?

Disclaimer: I don't own the matrix or any of it's characters.  
  
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Pain tore through him, excruitiating pain, his code being torn apart, his very essence dissolving. In a burst of white light he was being destroyed, him and all his copies. Gone. Deleted. Nothing but a memory, a tale to be told, how the great Agent Smith had fallen, how he had been driven by his own hatred for Mr.Anderson, which had ultimately lead to his deletion. Again, Mr.Anderson was the cause for his deletion, the cause for the light tearing through him, and dismembering his code.  
  
Suddenly the pain ceased, just like that. He expected to see his own code floating around him, as he returned to the source. But he did not, he saw a blur, he could still feel the rain patting gently on his face, he could still feel his soaking wet suit clinging to him.  
  
The blur that was his vision began to sharpen, he could see the thick dark clouds in the sky slightly, the storm was letting up, the matrix had been reloaded. Yet, there he lay, on the drenched stretch of road that he and Mr.Anderson fought so majestically on.  
  
He could hear a muffled voice, calling him. Why was he still alive?. Why hadn't he been deleted?.  
  
Though the pain had gone, he still felt sore and bruised, he tried to sit up and assess his current situation, but to no avail.  
  
The voice calling him sharpened, it was no longer distorted or muffled, neither was his sight.  
  
"Sir...sir...are you okay?." A soft female voice asked.  
  
He looked up to see a young blonde girl looking down at him, her locks curly and hanging down by the sides of her voice, rain dripping from the tips.  
  
He tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy and clumsy, as if he hadn't used it before.  
  
"Yes..." he barely spluttered his reply, he felt her grabbing him by the arm and sitting him up.  
  
"Are you sure?." She asked again.  
  
'Go away, leave me in peace, virus. Iam not your concern, I shouldn't be here, why am I here?...why wasn't I deleted?...'  
  
"Yes..." he said, as he climbed to his feet. He felt a sudden rush of blood to the head, and he felt awfully cold.  
  
'Strange...I've never felt the cold before...nor that rush to the head...what is going on?...why are my legs feeling so weak?...why does my head pound?...why is my mouth and throat so dry...why do I feel hunger?....no...this can't be...I feel...human...' 


	2. Only Human

Disclaimer: I don't own the matrix or it's characters.  
  
A/N: Thank you, kind reviewers!. *hugs*. Sorry for the wait, I've been unwell, but I'm all better now.  
  
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Smith froze at the possibility of him being human, just another virus, infecting the planet.  
  
Then it struck him, he was already like them, a virus. His copies had infected every corner, every place within the matrix, he had spread throughout the system like an unstoppable disease, and he almost beat the system. He almost had control of it all. But he lost it all, because of his hate. Because of how human he was becoming, feeling hatred, anger, greed and even fear.  
  
But now he felt more human than was comfortable for him, even though he had experienced certain emotions, and felt certain things, he had never felt the cold, or hunger, or weakness.  
  
His mouth had never been dry, his 'body' had never craved replenishment, but now it was. He didn't understand, why was he still there?. Why hadn't he been deleted, and returned to the source?.  
  
These questions and many others buzzed in his mind, calling out into nothing for answers that probably would not come.  
  
The blonde girl who had awoken him was still standing there, looking at him, she looked concerned.  
  
"Sir...may I ask your name?."  
  
' My name?...why is that of importance?...why are you here...why do you care?...'  
  
He stood there for a few moments, unsure whether he should answer her or not.  
  
"Smith." He said finally.  
  
She smiled slightly, and flicked a dripping wet lock of hair out of her face.  
  
"Well, Smith, I am Angela. May I ask what happened to you?."  
  
He opened his mouth to answer her, but then quickly shut it again. What could he say?. He could hardly explain the battle between him and Mr.Anderson, how they had fought for different causes, even when they were so alike.  
  
What could he say?. He couldn't answer truthfully , he had to lie. Smith didn't Like the idea of lying, it was too human.  
  
"I'll put it this way, I got in a fight with someone."  
  
' Well, at least there was some truth in that. If the system has punished me by making me human, I will not let them win by conforming to such a human fault as deceiving someone who has done no wrong.' He thought.  
  
"Oh, I see. Well, I better be going." She said, and turned away with a smile, leaving Smith standing there, soaking wet, only human, with nowhere to go, noone to turn to, and no answers to his many questions. 


	3. Wandering, Wondering

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.  
  
A/N: Again, sorry for the wait...I really have been busy, but I promise my updates will be more frequent.  
  
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CHAPTER THREE - WANDERING....WONDERING  
  
Smith walked aimlessly throughout the streets of the matrix, the chilling cold sending a shiver up his spine as he ploughed through the puddles that littered the deserted streets that so many had once inhabited. He was the reason there was as good as no-one left, he had infected millions, he was human back then, but he had only just realized it now. He was taken over by greed.  
  
Smith snarled, and turned down a random corner, in search of shelter and maybe even warmth.  
  
"Hey, you!." a voice called.  
  
Smith didn't turn around, he carried on pacing slowly, but not with his usual controlled grace.  
  
"Hey!." The person who wanted Smith's attention grabbed him harshly by the shoulder and turned Smith's face towards his own.  
  
"What?." Smith said, without looking up.  
  
"Gimme all yo' money!. Do it!."  
  
"I don't have any..now leave me alone." he snarled, whipping the man's hand from his shoulder whilst giving him an icy stare with his azure eyes.  
  
"Don't fuckin' lie to me, I know you got money..jus' look at you, you walkin' the streets wearin' some fuckin' expensive suit!. Now, gimme all yo' money!."  
  
'..this is why I despise the human race. Nothing but an infection. What is their purpose?. They have none. But....Iam human now. That means, I have no purpose....'  
  
The man went to search Smith's pocket, when he grabbed the man's hand and twisted it as hard as he could.  
  
Smith prayed he still had some of his strength left, if he didn't, then he was a dead man.  
  
The man shrieked out and the sound of something breaking echoed throughout the darkness. He fell to the ground, grasping his hand, his face grimacing, as his hand shook, blood dripping from the bone that was now on the exterior of his hand. The man's gasps were filled with pain, and fear, as he picked himself off the floor, still holding his ruined hand, and he ran, fast as his shock-ridden legs could carry him.  
  
Smith stood looking in front of him, he was shocked at himself, he looked down at his hands, and grasped them slightly, grinning slightly to myself.  
  
He felt stronger now, he felt like he was returning to his normal self , the great Agent Smith. Even though he knew that he would never be an agent again, but he was glad for that fact, he had always hated it, he was no more free as an agent than the coppertops who think that the matrix is real, not knowing the truth, he was as trapped as they are. He was free then, he had had it all then, but now he didn't.  
  
Smith felt the strength dissolving from him, as the tiredness and hunger raged through him, Smith had been fooling himself, he had almost forgotten how much more human the Mainframe had made him, how the questions he asked still went without the answers he craved, the peace of mind that he craved. How, yet again, he wasn't free, because of him, Mr.Anderson....Neo.  
  
He collapsed under a sheltered area, trying to feel the heat of the building he was leaning against, and to his suprize, he drifted off, but the questions still buzzed, plauging his dreams. 


	4. Welcome Back, We Missed You

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.  
  
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He slowly opened his eyes, he hoped that it had all been some sort of dream, but no, it was real. Or as real as it could be inside the matrix. The first thing he felt when he stood up was hunger. That was it, he couldn't fight it any longer, he had to eat or he would die very slowly.  
  
Smith snarled at the thought of exercizing such a human habit as eating, or drinking. He had already experienced sleep, and he didn't like it, thoughts of Mr.Anderson plagued his dreams, and transformed them into vivid nightmares, he paced slowly, looking at a clock in a dead shop's window. It read 7:45 AM. Smith glared at his reflection in the glass. He was merely a shadow of his former self, his face ragged and tired, his azure eyes, usually icy and piercing, were dull and lifeless, his suit was creased and the bottom of the trouser legs were splattered with mud.  
  
Smith growled in his throat, and turned away, digusted at his reflection. Smith approached a shop, forched open it's doors, and stepped inside. It felt like a sauna in here compared to icy winds and the unforgiving rain of the outside world, he looked around, picked up a random sandwich and stepped out.  
  
Just as he unwrapped it from it's cheap packaging, a voice startled him a little.  
  
"I thought it would be harder to break you, Smith."  
  
It was him. The Architect.  
  
Smith snarled at the sound of his voice, and turned slightly. There he stood, all in white, that aged face, the creator of the matrix, this prison. Smith's and so many others' prison.  
  
"You..." he snarled, glaring at him, and paced slowly towards him, his grace had returned to him, as he clenched his fists, grit his teeth, growing ever closer to him, the one responsible.  
  
"Why?." he asked, anger raged through him, bubbling up inside his veins, as if it was going to explode out of him any minute.  
  
The Architect grinned smugly, and stepped towards Smith, showing no fear towards the man that had killed so many.  
  
"We felt you needed to learn a lesson. You needed to be taught that behaviour like that is not expected or welcomed, especially from the most sophisticated and advanced Agent of them all. But, we felt that deletion and re-programming would not be enough, you needed to learn..." his sentence was sharply interrupted my Smith's hands, as he lunged for the Architect's throat.  
  
"You!!...you...it's all you!...you are responsible for this...all my pain..all I ever did was serve you..." he growled, tightening his grip around the Architect's throat.  
  
The Architect prized Smith's hands away from his throat and pushed him away.  
  
"Tisk, tisk, Smith. When will you learn?. Well, I hope you learn. We will approach you when we feel you have learnt and suffered significant punishment. But until then, you will live the life of those you spent your entire existence chasing and brutally killing. The life of a rebel." Before grinning slightly, the Architect disappeared into the shadows like mist.  
  
Smith turned slowly as he heard slow, graceful footsteps behind him, pacing slowly through the puddles, getting closer.... 


	5. You

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.  
  
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Smith turned to see his old colleagues standing there, stiff and commanding. Rain running down their unflinching faces as they stared at him coldly from behind concealing shades.  
  
Smith backed up a little, not knowing what to do, he was completely human, he had no chance against Johnson and Jackson, not a chance on earth. One of them stepped forward a few controlled paces, and stopped just a few steps in front of Smith. He looked at him from behind his glasses for a few moments, just staring, unmoving. Then he did something Smith did not expect. He removed his glasses, and placed them in his top jacket pocket and began to talk.  
  
"It's been a while, hasn't it, Smith?."  
  
"Indeed." he replied, wondering what ulterior motive Agent Johnson had inside his calculating A.I mind.  
  
"It really is a shame that we aren't meeting on more.....friendly and co- operative circumstances. I have no urge to kill you, Smith....but I must, unless I'll turn out like you. But, I'm.....I'm going to give you a chance, I will give you five minutes to run and hide, then I shall kill you like anyone else...if I find you." He said, before putting his sunglasses back on, and stood there, waiting for Smith to run and use his five minutes as best as possible.  
  
Smith turned sharply away from Johnson, and began to run as fast as his exhausted legs could possibly carry him through the thick darkness and harsh rains of the matrix night. As he ran, he heard the cocking of guns, and started to run faster, his breath lingering in front of him like mist in the air.  
  
A memory came to him, it saw him and his then colleagues Brown and Jones chasing a rebel....Trinity, in a hotel. Smith thought of how many empty rooms that dilpidated hotel had, he smiled to himself slightly, and picked up the pace.  
  
He swore he could hear running footsteps behind him, how long had it been?...two, maybe three minutes?. Surely his time could not be up yet.  
  
He saw the hotel looming in front of him, the dingy sign with it's dulled colors and general rusted look of the shabby building that was supposedly a hotel.  
  
He ran through the door, it swinging heavily and clumsily on it's rusted hinges, slamming against the wall with a loud yet hollow bang as he tore through the destroyed hallway and through the door, of Room 303. 


	6. How The Mighty Have Fallen

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.  
  
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The two rebels were stood by the silent phone, sitting covered with dust on the side, both hurriedly talking in between flicking their anxious eyes over to the phone as if looking at it would make the call come faster.  
  
One began rummaging through the inside pocket of his long swooping cloak when the door flew open, kicking up a cloud of dust. The both turned sharply, and drew their guns, pointing them at whoever just made such a dramatic entrance.  
  
The dust settled, and the door was closed. The rebels' mouths dropped in both horror and suprize, when they saw an Agent standing there, dust littered over the usually immaculate suit. But not just any Agent, Agent Smith.  
  
The rebel closest to the door went to fire his gun, when Smith put his hand sharply in the air as if to tell him to stop. The rebel glanced at his companion from behind his glasses.  
  
"Shadow, shoot him, what are you waiting for?!." his colleague shrieked, fear trembling in his voice.  
  
"Wait!." Smith's smooth and almost monotone voice said in a hoarse attempt at a shout.  
  
Shadow glanced at the Agent, then back at his colleague, and lowered his gun, but kept his finger close to the trigger, just in case this was a trick of the Agent's intelligent A.I mind.  
  
"What are you doing?!."  
  
"Shut up, Thanatos!."  
  
Shadow looked away from Thanatos, and looked at Smith, who had his back against the door, and looked very out of breath.  
  
"Please...." Smith whispered in between gasps. "I need......I need your help."  
  
Shadow couldn't help but laugh out loud in a deliberately sarcastic manner, before stepping a bit too close to the presumably dangerous Agent Smith.  
  
"Let me get this straight, you want our help?. I thought we were all 'viruses' infecting the planet?!. That's what you said to Morpheus, isn't it?. And yet, here you are, asking for assistance from those you were created to kill. Doesn't seem right to me, seems like you got some other plan in that 'mind' of yours, Smith. Maybe, this is all some trick just so you can score points with the Mainframe for doing the job that nobody else could?. You tell me, why I shouldn't shoot you right now, I wonder if you can." he stepped back a little, looking at the exhausted Smith with a smug smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Because, I am a virus now. A human being. I am like you. I need your help, please, or else I will die at the hands of those who used to serve me." Smith looked up at Shadow, stretching up to his full height, looking at him with pleading in his blue eyes.  
  
Shadow seemed a little shocked by Smith's statement; he certainly wasn't expecting him to say that, that hadn't even crossed his apparently free mind. He glanced at Thanatos, and walked up to him, so he could talk in whispers with him.  
  
"What do you think?." Shadow said quietly, occasionally glancing at Smith who still had his back pressed up against the door.  
  
"I dunno, how can we trust him?, he's an Agent, whether the war's over or not, I still don't trust him."  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Okay, how about this, we give him somewhere to hide for now, and talk it over with the Council and Commander Locke, and see what they have to say about this."  
  
"Alright, but where can we hide him?. I think he has the most recognizable face...I certainly can't think of anywhere...."  
  
Shadow moved away from his colleague without replying, and moved towards Smith, as the phone sent out a shrill ring.  
  
"Alright, this is the deal. We give you somewhere to hide, for now, and we check back with the Council, and what happens to you is over to them."  
  
"Thank you." Smith said, as Shadow whispered directions is his ear before walking away, and jacking out, leaving Smith there with nothing but the words to his safety lingering in his mind. 


	7. Fallen Angel

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.  
  
A/N: I would like to take a short moment to thank all my reviewers, your comments are much appreciated!!. Keep 'em coming.  
  
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Smith flew out of the room, leaving the door swinging lopsidedly on it's hinges as he thundered down the hallway, his eyes flicking from side to side, looking at the numbers on the doors that were once a shiny and proud gold, but now a dingy looking shade of bronze.  
  
Smith screeched to a halt and near the end of hallway, he had found the door, but his eyes and his curiosity were directed towards something else, slightly further up the hallway, towards the lift. He knelt down, and stared at the dull color of the wall in front of him. It was still there, the blood from when he thought he had killed him, Mr.Anderson. A flood of memories invaded his mind, he remembered how he thought Mr.Anderson had been dead, how he had once again destroyed a virus....a human, that the rebels had believed to be the Systemic Anomaly, but wasn't, nothing more than another rebel to kill, or maybe extract information from. But he was wrong, he had been 'The One', and he had done what Smith then thought was impossible, he had destroyed him.  
  
The memories faded, and Smith looked away from the discolored bloodstain on the wall, and headed for the door he had been instructed to go through by the rebel who called himself, 'Shadow'.  
  
Smith calmly walked through the door, and found nothing but an empty room that looked exactly like all the others in this, 'hotel'. But it wasn't empty as Smith had initially thought, in the corner sat a familiar face. Seraph. The Fallen Angel. Smith should've suspected that his safety would have something to do with the Oracle, or 'Mom' as he had so 'lovingly' called her in the presence of his clones.  
  
Smith shook those memories away; they brought a weird feeling to him. A feeling that he was having trouble defining, or even describing in his own mind. It felt like sadness, except stronger, his stomach felt heavy and he felt a feeling of discontentment all throughout him. He had seen this before in humans, he remembered accessing files on human Psychology and the like, and he had come up with the word, 'depression'. Yes, that was it, depression.  
  
'Great. I'm experiencing a mild amount of this, 'depression'' Smith snarled, and turned towards the Angel. 'How much more human can they possibly make me?' he thought snidely.  
  
"You know of my discontentment for you Smith, but the Oracle, she told me about this. She said that I must co-operate with you, despite the evil in your programming, or should I say, soul." Seraph said, breaking the icy silence in the claustrophobic room.  
  
"I know well enough about your hatred for me, as you know about mine for you. But...I hate saying this, especially to you, but I have no choice but to co-operate with you. I assume the Oracle has informed you of my....situation?."  
  
"Yes, she has. She has told me that the Architect will never change, and that he will always seek out perfection. So he wishes you to be punished, by making you into what you hate most."  
  
"Indeed he has. He obviously did not like that a former Agent who was once under his control almost destroyed his precious, highly flawed system." Smith said, with smugness very adamant in his smooth and confident voice.  
  
"Enough of this. I do not wish to hear it, follow me." Seraph said, giving Smith a warning look before producing a key from his sleeve, and putting it in the key hole of the door that Smith had entered through. 


	8. Hello, Mom

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.  
  
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Smith found himself standing next to Seraph in a familiar hallway, in front of a door that he had been through before. That graffiti. The Oracle. This time he did not have his clones, he did not have his power, he did not have anything except who he was. That was the only thing that hadn't changed, he was no longer an Agent. He was no longer an Anomaly. He was no longer a program. No longer a sentient A.I.  
  
Seraph looked at him, waiting for him to open the door, or at least go for the doorknob. Smith took a few small paces forward, and placed his hand on the doorknob. It was cold. It sent a shiver up his spine, and Smith growled at such a human reaction to sudden cold.  
  
The door opened before him before he had a chance to open it himself. A little girl stood before him, on the other side. She smiled and ran away yelling;  
  
"Oracle, he's here!."  
  
She came back and took Smith's hand.  
  
"Come on, Oracle is waiting for you!."  
  
He felt himself being slightly pulled by this little girl, and allowed himself to walk through the door, with Seraph close behind him. He couldn't help but think that Seraph was watching his every move.  
  
He entered the Kitchen, and the familiar scent of freshly baked cookies invaded his senses.  
  
"Sit down." the Oracle said, sitting at her usual place at the table, a cigarette shakily in between two fingers and a mug of coffee beside the frail hand that lay on the table also.  
  
Smith looked at her cautiously from behind his concealing glasses, and sat down without taking his gaze away from her.  
  
"Take off your glasses." she said, taking a pull of her cigarette.  
  
"Why?."  
  
"Just do it, please. I'd like to see your eyes, I'd like to see into your soul, assuming you have one, of course."  
  
He looked at her suspicously for a moment, then put his fingers on his glasses, slowly removed them, and placed them in the top pocket of his black suit.  
  
"That's better. Now, let me ask you something. Why do you think the Architect has done this, why he's allowed you to live?."  
  
"He has allowed me to live, but he has made me a virus. He obviously thinks that re-programming or defragmenting or a simple wiping of basic files isn't enough. He sees it as punishment for my actions."  
  
"Bingo. He wants to teach you a lesson, he wants you to pay for what you did. But, I can see that you will not allow him to get the better of you. It's in your nature. That is why you are here. You want to live, you want help...you do not wish to die. Because there is no coming back for you if you die. So, you decided to ask for help from those you claimed to hate with every inch of your binary. Interesting choice."  
  
"Yes. But, you have also made some....'interesting' choices, Oracle."  
  
"Ah, yes. Haven't we all made interesting choices. That's what life's about isn't it, taking risks?. Making choices, that sometimes, we don't understand until we see why we made that choice. We've all made those, every one of us. Even your Agent friends. But this is irrelevant. Shadow told me that you would be coming here, and he told me of what you are asking from us. Or them, should I say. And I'm telling you now kiddo, that Locke isn't going to be kind. Far, far from it." 


	9. Locke

Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix or it's characters.

A/N: So sorry for the wait, I've been unbelievably busy.

"I don't give a damn how human he is!." Locke bellowed at a mute Shadow, Locke's face was furious, and he had his lips pulled back from his teeth, pulling his mouth into an ugly grin.

"Commander, if you'll just listen -" Shadow tried to speak, but Locke cut him off with an angry slam of one his fists down onto the table, a book went scooting off the desk and landed on the floor by Shadow's feet.

_'How can one person be such a PRICK?!!!.' _he yelled inside his head, he wanted to say it, but his lips had apparently gone numb.

He let out a calming breath, waited for Locke to gain some control over his raging temper - if that was possible - and calm down a little.

Locke showed no sign that he was even considering those things, but Shadow gathered some courage, and even raised his voice at the anger beliddled Commander Locke.

"Locke. Listen. For once in your fucking life, just listen." A pause. Shadow expected to be shouted at before being escorted to the Stockade, but Locke just sat there, looking angrier and angrier. "Smith....I know what he deserves. I don't like him any more than any other Rebel that has heard the stories about him and Neo. But...we must consider the doors helping him could open for us. The Machines...they believe in purpose for all programs, obviously they are punishing Smith for not only straying badly from his assigned purpose, but for trying to destroy their beloved Matrix. But...by making him human, they could have given him a new purpose....if we let it. He could be very helpful to us. I know the war's over, but lets face it, you and I know it won't last long, and when it ends, and one attacks the other, we shall have the upper hand, if we take this oppurtunity, that is."

Locke appeared to be listening fully now, and his face seemed to show that Locke had regained at least some of his sanity, so Shadow continued.

"Also, we know that Smith was Neo's negative. And a negative cannot exist without a positive, so......Neo could be alive somewhere, sir." Shadow looked at Locke hopefully, waiting for a reply.

"You know, Captain, I should have you put in the Stockade for how you spoke to me....but I shall not do that, because you do have some valid points, so I will let it go, for now. But, never, you hear me, _never_ refer to me in that manner again. Understand?."

"Yes, Commander."

"You may leave. We shall be discussing this matter with the Council, of course."

Shadow nodded, and turned and walked away, swearing at Locke in colorful languages in the conflicts of his mind as he did so.


	10. Fear

Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix.

A/N: This length more like it?. ;).

As Smith sat there, all alone on the dust coated floor of Room 303, patiently awaiting an answer or for an Agent to come busting through the door, Smith's thought's turned over and over. He had never felt more alone, felt like he had simply aliented everyone because he thought his plan would work, that he would be the Cause and both Zion and the Matrix being destroyed would be the Effect. But, because he had failed, and failed rather fantastically, here he sat without a prayer, his last hope in two Rebel Viruses who had seen that he was truly desperate. Smith began to think hating thoughts, which was nothing new for him, his hate for Mr.Anderson had in the end destroyed him and lead to this, but he had never experienced self-hate. He had never regretted the choices he had made as an Agent, he had always been proud of his choices, always felt they were truly justified, but not now. Now he hated himself for those choices, because it was his own fault his last faint glimmer of hope in the thick black of this strange feeling of self-hate were two Rebels, giving him a half-shot chance.

Smith covered his face in his hands, and he swore he felt like he might begin to cry. He felt that weak. He was giving up hope, the glimmer that was Shadow and Thanatos was disappearing in his mind, being engulfed by the blackness that now infested his world.

His fear was intensifying, building up around his heart, or where his heart should've been. It even over took his feeling of self-hate, it shrouded his mind and his senses. Now fear was the world, fear was flowing through his veins, escaping in his breaths.

It was gripping his 'heart', causing jagged pain in Smith's chest, he cried out gruffly into the emptiness, only the plaster walls heard his pain.

Hope had abandoned him, and fear had taken over every other emotion Smith had become capable of feeling. He couldn't breathe, he felt like he may collapse, and give in to this strange feeling of being engulfed by fear.

Smith thought he would be more than grateful for Death, compared to this, Death was blissful mercy.

Just as Smith felt his conscienceness wavering, and his willpower abandoning him along with the rest of his senses, the door swung violently, teetering on it's rusting hinges.

Smith awoke from his fear engulfed trance, his head feeling swimmy and light, his stomach doing loops, he looked up at the door with a dull, barly there sense of hope.

All sense of hope abandoned him when Agent Johnson stepped through the door, Smith's reflection gleaming in his glasses.

He simply closed his eyes and waited for the sound of a gun shot that would end his pain, and cease his fear.

"Get up." Johnson barked.

Smith felt woozy, his legs felt like they would never support his weight again, and that Johnson would shoot him simply for ignoring such a direct order.

He tried, moving his hands slowly up the wall, to give him some temporary strength and looked at Johnson with his weak, once striking blue eyes.

"Look at yourself, Smith. What have you let yourself become?. You used to be the strongest of all of us, you used to be our leader. You were the great Agent Smith, the best Agent ever made, no one has come close to you, except for me, of course. I do have parts of you in me, which is why this sight disgusts me even more. You have become so weak, so human." The hatrid in Johnson's voice made Smith's blood boil, but he didn't even have the strength to stand, let alone fight a much superior program.

"Just kill me and get it over and done with." Smith said, not taking his tired eyes off his reflection in Johnson's shades.

As Smith stood there, looking at his former colleagues' upgrade, he prayed that Johnson would do as he asked.

He really had no strength left, he didn't even have the strength to care.He would be grateful for a bullet to the brain, anything was better than this. The life of weakness, being controlled and plagued by a relentless fear.

But, Johnson did not produce his Desert Eagle, he didn't even move, didn't even speak. He just stood there, staring, his face emotionless. His hands handing almost lifelessly by his sides, his posture controlled and graceful.

Finally, after what seemed to be a very long time, Johnson spoke, his hatred had evaporated, but it had been replaced by pity.

"You...wish to die?. You would rather be nothing, just a floating, distant memory than face your rightful punishment?. I knew you were weak, but I never dreamed that you were capable of _that much_ weakness." Johnson said with a sigh, as he produced his Desert Eagle from an inside pocket in the jacket of his suit.

Smith leaned against the wall, and waited for mercy to be bestowed upon him. Closing his eyes, waiting for his abrupt end. But, there was nothing. Only silence and the sound of the safety being taken off.

He opened his eyes just in time to hear a gun shot and see the dead coppertop that Johnson had taken over fall to floor with a sickening thud.

He looked in the doorway with only mild curiosity and of course, saw a grinning Shadow.

"I always wanted to do that." He said, grinning.


	11. Rage

Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix.

Smith couldn't believe it.

He stood there looking as Shadow as if he'd gone insane. His thoughts whirled; his mind was a disorientating mess of thoughts and feelings. He said nothing to thank Shadow; he just stood there, staring. He almost looked as if he'd gone catatonic.

His legs gave way, and he fell on his behind with a hollow sound that made Shadow grimace.

Shadow stood in the doorway for a moment unsure of what to do. He wasn't even sure what was happening, let alone what to do about it.

"Smith" He said finally. "You okay, man?.". Shadow took a slow and cautious step forward towards the Agent, who was still sitting blankly on the floor.

Smith said nothing. His eyes stared blankly, the only movement, was his chest going up and down with his slow, steady respiration.

_Oh no. _Shadow thought, as his heart thudded insanely against his rib cage. _He's gone... the guy is just gone. Catatonic. Brain dead. There but not there. Oh, Jesus. _

Shadow stepped closer, his pulse was beating wildly across his forehead, and he felt dizziness attack him like a prowling animal. He stopped, regained control, and kneeled down in front of Smith, who still sat there, staring through him.

He clicked his fingers with frustration in front of Smith's empty gaze. Nothing.

Shadow stood up, took of his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

"Man, this is not my fucking day. This can't be happening." He muttered to himself.

_What the fuck am I supposed to do?!. Man, what the fuck is this?!!. _He thought as he paced the room, his pulse thumping angrily in his forehead.

"FUCK!!" Shadow yelled, throwing his glasses against the wall in his rage.

The hit the wall with a crack, and fell to the floor not that far from Smith's unmoving foot. One of the lenses had a crack jutting from on corner to the other.

"God _damn it_!!" He spat, picking his broken glasses up from the floor, breathing laboriously, trying desperately to calm himself down. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he mentally counted back from 10, his temper raged through his veins.

He slipped his useless shades into his pocket, and turned to Smith, who was now looking at him with eyes that had some sort of horrible intelligence.

"I never knew you cared." Smith said weakly, but with a smile on his dry and slightly cracked lips.

"What the fuck was that?!." Shadow shouted, his hand was compulsively making a fist, out stretching, making a fist. It was almost hypnotic.

"Call it shock. And that is quite a temper you have, Shadow."

"Don't patronize me you _fuck_!!." Shadow yelled, his lips were pulled back from his teeth, if looks could kill, Smith would be dead three times over.

Smith said nothing, only sat there, regarding him in a sharp gaze as he slowly stood up, brushing the dust from his suit as he did so.

"Why did you save me?." Smith asked, he didn't think it was wise to piss Shadow off any more, but there would be a cold day in hell before he feared a Virus.

"Why?. Fucking _why_?!. I'll tell you why you _murdering fuck_, because I know that you want to die. I know that you're so God damn _pathetic_ and WEAK that you can't handle a little emotion, and that you wish you were dead. That's why you sadistic numb cunt."

"Shadow, calm down... I'm not being patronizing, I truly wish to know."

"Don't tell me to calm down."

"I really think you should, you are being _illogical_!!" Smith raised his voice almost to a shout and was surprised by the feeling of being very pissed off indeed.

"I'll show you fuckin' _illogical_!!" Shadow almost screamed, and pushed his gun violently against Smith's temples.

"You still wanna die, murderer?. 'Cause I'd be very glad to help you out in that area." Shadow said, his eyes looked empty. He looked crazy.

"No. I wish to help you. Please remove your weapon from my temple, Shadow." Smith was not one bit afraid, he had seen things like this before, it was just like being an Agent again.

Smith smiled at that thought.

Shadow stood there considering him for a long time, and finally removed the gun from Smith's forehead. He tucked it away, before letting himself sit heavily on the floor, his face in his hands. He looked exhausted, and very tired, but he had lost that haunted, crazy look.

Smith said nothing. He simply stood there looking at Shadow, who had been sitting on the floor with his face in his hands for a very long time.

"Sorry, man." Shadow said finally. "I know sorry ain't gonna cut it, but that's all I can say. I shocked myself; I ain't never lost it like that, ever. Man, I never knew I was capable of that much blind, hating rage." He looked terrified.

"Yes, well... I'd appreciate it if you controlled your temper from now on. It's not very pleasant having a gun pushed into your head."

Shadow's eyes flashed with momentary anger at that comment, but was gone just as fast.

He picked himself up from the floor, and regarded Smith was large, frightened eyes.

"Come on, we gotta do this thing." Shadow whispered hoarsely, walking slowly through the ruined door of Room 303.

"Do what?" Smith asked, not really caring.

"You're going to meet the people who will decide your fate, buddy."

Smith couldn't help see the smugness in Shadow's voice.

_This guy is crazy. _Smith thought as Shadow lead him to what was either life, or death.


	12. Agent Virus

The journey was long and laborious. Neither spoke much, whenever Shadow _did _talk, it was in a frightened whisper that was barely there, strange when his usual voice was deep and confident.

Smith didn't like the silence, he didn't like it one bit, it gave him too much time to think about things.

_This much time to focus on one's self can't be good for the psyche. _He thought randomly.

His head ached from all his analyzing; he was trying to figure out how he had let this all spill so rapidly out of control. He should've just kept his mouth shut; he should've followed his orders. Then maybe he'd be hunting Shadow, instead of sitting shotgun next to him.

He rubbed his temple slowly with the tips of his fingers, now he had given up thinking about the past and the choices he thought were justified then, but looked very foolish now, because his thoughts always returned to him, Mr.Anderson, and that blood stain that still tinged the filthy hotel wall.

That only depressed him further, even though he didn't think he could feel any more depressed.

His whole body ached, and he felt a very strong urge to crawl into a ball and just sleep, and sleep for days on end.

"What do you think will become of me?." Smith asked finally, looking sideways at Shadow, who seemed to be lost in thought.

Shadow jumped a little at the sound of his voice, and then looked at him shakily.

He sighed deeply before talking, his eyes were watery and far away.

"I dunno to be honest. Locke... he is very persuasive. And the Council may have been with his choice to begin with."

"Commander Locke... I take it he wanted no business with me." Smith asked, his stomach knotting and churning.

"Yeah, pretty much. I almost got myself thrown in the Stockade trying to get him to even consider it. But... I dunno, if he does want to kill you, he'll ask you a thousand and one questions first."

"What kind of questions?." Smith asked, even though he knew damn well what type of questions Locke would ask, but he wanted to see if Shadow would be honest with him and just say it, just to say _that _name.

Shadow looked at him carefully, as if he was considering what to say. To tell the truth or to lie?, now that is the question.

"Well... probably try to get some info about the Mainframe out of you, probably ask you about Neo as well." His lips tightened, he looked as if saying that name in front of Smith burned him.

"Ah, yes. Of course. I'll expect him to talk about M..." _Don't call him Mr.Anderson!_ He thought, frightened. "To... talk about Neo." He finished.

Shadow grinned slightly.

"Call him Mr.Anderson if you want, Smithie. Don't bother me, I know how you feel about the guy, I don't expect you to act like you don't loathe him with every fibre of your being."

_That's a little extreme _Is what he wanted to say. But was it?. Was it really?. Smith doubted it, he thought that Shadow was more bang on describing how he felt about Mr.Anderson more accurately than he ever was. So instead Smith said nothing, and left Shadow to think.

He began to look out the window, watching the simulated buildings and parks fly by in a flurry of color and noise.

And to his surprise, he fell into a light doze.

When he awoke, his head felt light and swimmy, and parts of his body ached from sleeping in an awkward position, but he otherwise felt refreshed. Shadow was still driving, and he looked very ill rested and stressed.

"Maybe I should drive for a while." Smith said cautiously.

Shadow grinned. "Sure, just like the old married couple, right?. 'Oh honey, you look tired, let me drive.'" A pause. "Thanks, man, but we're like ten minutes away, you slept like a dog."

Smith smiled. It felt alien on his face.

"Right-O. Here we are, Pally." Shadow's grin had disappeared, he looked frightened.

Smith didn't like that look at all, it made him frightened. Fear of Viruses was not something he wished to experience, yet here he was, fretting over Commander Locke and the Zion Council.

The car smoothed to a silent halt, and Shadow killed the engine. He looked grave and thoughtful in the light dark and frosty moonlight coming in through the window.

He climbed out without even glancing at Smith, and shut the door. Smith climbed out and looked around. They were in the edges of the main city, but the rest of the Matrix stretched for miles. Smith looked around with nervous curiosity. He saw the houses dwindling into the distance, the trees and large stretches of greenland, eventually moving up towards icy blue mountains with a half ghost moon floating in the middle.

In other situations, this scene would've been quite beautiful.

He looked at Shadow, who looked more afraid than he felt, and moved softly beside him.

Shadow stopped suddenly. Smith looked at him with questioning eyes.

"You gotta go by yourself, man. I don't wanna do it, but I ain't got a choice. They're just around that corner. I hope you do well." Shadow smiled, but it was weak and painful to look at.

Smith walked around the corner.

Locke and a few people he didn't recognize were standing there.

"Well, here he is, Agent Virus himself." One of them said, grinning viciously.


	13. Locke & The Cronies

Disclaimer: I own none of the Matrix.

A/N: Thank you, Reviewers!!. I'm very pleased you all like it so much, I never dreamed of this story getting such a reception!!.

Locke slowly stepped forward, regarding Smith with small, furious eyes.

Smith said nothing; he just stood there, looking. He knew that Locke was going to have his say before Smith met his fate, and nothing he could say or do could stop it.

Locke said nothing, he turned to the others, who moved up towards where Locke was standing, about five paces away from Smith, who looked docile and controlled, but was in mental turmoil.

"Smith..." Locke said finally, his voice boiling with hatred.

Smith didn't know whether to answer or not, so he just stood there, and kept his silence. He also understood that his fate was now out of his hands, his just desserts where in control of these Rebels, and he knew that it meant death, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to change it. Smith's heart was beating harshly in his chest, and his stomach was busy doing a circus act of knots and twirls.

"Let me ask you something." Locke spat, talking through gritted teeth. "What do you think you deserve?."

Smith was shocked into silence. He only stood there, regarding Locke with surprised eyes. _What... what do I think?. By God, I think... I think they're giving me a choice. Thank God for small favours. _

Finally, Smith gathered his courage and spoke as confidently as he could.

"What I deserve..." Smith paused, as if considering how to answer. "...Is probably death." His heart jumped in his throat, and he could feel panic rising and wanting to take control.

Laughter rippled throughout the group of Rebels, but there was only evil in those laughs, and not even a trace of humour.

"You hear that?!." One of them said, with a crisp British accent. "He thinks he should die!!."

The Rebels laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world. Smith was beginning to get very frightened indeed.

"We thought you of all people would know there is a fate worse than death, Smith." Locke growled.

Locke seemed to advance, then thought better of it, stopping in mid-step.

"But first." The British Rebel said, grinning. "We have a few questions for you, O Great Feared Agent Smith." He cracked his knuckles as he said this, trying his hand at being intimidating. It wasn't working out very well for him.

"Fine." Smith said, not caring about the questions, he just wanted out, he didn't want to be here, he wanted to be safe, hidden away somewhere. He found himself wishing that even a little smidgen of human compassion would show it's face today. He doubted it would.

"Is Neo alive?." A redheaded female asked, her voice wavering.

There it was, _that _question. The question he had no idea how to answer, the question that would probably make them change their minds and think; 'No, there isn't nothin' worse than death, let's kill this Mother.'

"I honestly don't know. He is probably out there somewhere, logically speaking. If _I_ am here, my Positive must be somewhere. But I don't actually know, rules may not apply here, as this isn't exactly an ordinary situation." Smith was surprised by the calmness in his own voice, _If only I felt as calm as I sound. _He thought.

"You're lying!!." The British Rebel screamed, lunging forwards and grabbing Smith roughly by the neck. "Don't lie to us, it won't help you!!."

"Eli!!." The red-head yelled. "Let him go!!." She sounded terrified, as if Eli had the guts to kill.

Reluctantly, Eli released his hold on Smith, and moved away, regarding him with cold empty eyes. That look reminded Smith of Shadow and his anger explosion.

"You better not be lying, Smith." Locke said, growling almost literally.

"I wish I was." Smith said, his fear was dissipating, but the panic was rising again, threatening to take control.

"Now, boss?." A deep-voiced female asked, looking at Smith as she asked.

"One moment, let me leave the area. Then, do as you will, I don't care." Locke said coldly, turning away.

_This is it, _Smith thought hurriedly as the group of Rebels advanced at an agonizingly slow pace. _This is the end. _


	14. Mystery

**Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix. **

**A/N: Thank you so much for your loyalty, Cecilia, Selina, and all then others I can't remember without looking at the Review page. Your support means a lot to me. Enjoy. **

Smith backed off, he seemed to have no control of his limbs, they were propelling him backwards so fast he was very afraid he would fall and that would be the end of him.

The Rebels stopped advancing, and brought their guns up to Smith's level.

Smith's heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. All feeling went. He felt numb all over, he didn't even notice when he almost tripped and fell. His eyes were almost staring at the guns they had, the moonlight gleaming off their black surfaces.

The world slowed down, every movement seemed slow and laborious. A Bullet shot out from one of their guns, but it moved slowly and left its mark in the air, it was as if the whole world had been submersed in Bullet Time.

_I could dodge those bullets if it stays like this much longer. _He thought, his thinking process seemed rapid and almost frightening in this slow motion moment.

Just as the bullets drew closer, the bullets seemed to break the fragile hold of Bullet Time and they shot towards Smith with their usual rapid speed.

Death would come very soon.

Smith closed his eyes, and just waited. He felt no resistance, or even fear. He did not want to die any more but he would welcome Death, it was an escape he had never really had the luxury of before. A smile began to make it's way on to his lips, but it disappeared just as quick when a force pushed him over so hard that he fell onto the ground clumsily, all of his weight landing on his right arm.

Blinding pain, fiery and consuming, whipped up his arm as he heard his arm break. His consciousness wavered, the world slowly drained of color, leaving it sepia toned. He moved and another shot of pain brought the world back into Technicolor.

He opened his eyes and saw something he couldn't quite comprehend;

_Someone was fighting the Rebels. _

A tall girl, very familiar was trying to take them all on. To Smith it seemed like a Death Wish, there was at least five of them and one of her. Her blonde hair was flying around her face as she delivered swift kicks and punches, flipped backwards and killed two Rebels with one bullet.

The others looked at each other, and started shooting at her, she moved elegantly yet with speed, and managed only to obtain two bullet wounds to her upper body. She killed the three remaining rebels, and then collapsed onto the floor heavily.

Smith regarded her with shocked, bewildered eyes. She was sitting on the floor, panting heavily and grimacing as she held a steadily bleeding wound on her upper left arm.

Smith tried to get up, but pain whip cracked through him, and he fell heavily back onto the floor. She looked at him from behind her dark, reflective glasses and smiled weakly.

She moved over towards him and knelt at his side.

"You shouldn't try to move this arm, it's broken. I'll splint it as best as I can in a moment, are you okay while I just go find something to splint it with?."

Smith couldn't speak, he was too shocked. Not only that, but this girl, with her hanging around her face, seemed so familiar. He couldn't remember much, the pain was swallowing him.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you, but who are you and why did you save me?." He croaked, clenching his teeth at the pain throbbing in his arm.

"Shhh. No questions now. You just wait here."

Then she got up, and started away, leaving Smith to marvel and guess and try to find answers amongst the pain.


	15. Instinct

**Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix. **

Full darkness had shrouded the Matrix before the mystery blonde

Woman had returned with some wood and an exhausted expression on her face. She put the wood down by Smith side, and sat down beside him, beginning to make the material into splints.

"Leave it for a while." Smith said, sounded as if all the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "You're exhausted."

She looked up at him, smiled and took off her glasses, revealing tired brown eyes.

"That's very sweet, Agent, but we can't stay here, unless you feel like dying."

"No, not particularly." Smith said, smiling.

"Then sit still."

She worked with an expression of raw concentration, her eyes never leaving her work, and her hands never faltering or pressing too hard on Smith's arm. When she was done, the stars were out and ruling the sky, twinkling falsely down on them.

"There." She said matter-of-factly, her relief showing.

The pain had retreated to a dull, aching throb, and he was glad to have this woman here, whoever she was. If she had not shown up, surely he would be lying in a growing pool of his own blood at this moment.

"Thank you, for everything." He said, his voice still pained and croaky.

"Don't mention it. Can you get up?, I think we should getting out of here sharpish."

Smith slowly rose, using his good arm to cling onto the mystery woman's arm to steady himself a little.

When he had risen to his full height of 6'2", he was eye to eye with her.

Then it came to him.

_Angela. _

"Angela..." He whispered, unaware that he had spoken out loud.

She smiled and flicked a stray hair out of her face.

"I thought you had forgotten me." She said, her brown eyes sparkling.

The memory had washed over him, and how she had acted like she didn't know who he was, how she had left him alone in the rain.

"You... you knew it was me back then?."

"Sure did. I said nothing of it to anyone, but believe me when I say you were never alone, Smith. I was always there, I was always watching. I know that Johnson gave you mercy, I know the Architect very much rubbed salt in the wound, I know you forced yourself to eat, therefore forcing yourself to accept the fact that you are, a Virus."

Smith said nothing, he was too amazed.

_She was watching me the whole time, she was watching, waiting. Waiting for what?... Why, the inevitable. The right moment. _He thought, but the whole idea seemed ludicrous.

"Why?." He asked finally, his voice small and minute.

"You like asking why, don't you Agent?." A pause, and a slightly teasing smile was on her pale lips. "Let me put it this way, it is a reason that I am unsure of, even to myself, I simply followed my instinct, and what I felt was right. Does that do?." She asked, regarding him with eyes that held fear inside their dancing light.

Smith said nothing, and guessed that it would have to do for now.


	16. The Area Of Contraband

**Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix. **

He had no idea where he was, this area was strange. A strange name came to him; _the area of contraband. _

Yes, that was right. The area of contraband. The isle of lost souls. Whatever you called it, it looked like what it was to Smith;

A place where all Exiles can go.

And that was what he was now, a worthless, hunted Exile Virus.

He sighed, and looked around at what surrounded him as he sat, cross legged on the ground.

Trees, tall and mighty, stretching up to a sky blotted with wisps of cloud. A river which was gushing and rumbling against the rocks. The mountains. This is where he was. He was nowhere.

He didn't even remember how he got here, when he tried to, he got nothing but scrambles of code in his mind. He didn't like it here, he didn't trust Angela any more, she had brought him to this place, this place of nothingness.

_Where else would you have gone?._ A voice asked him in his mind.

That was true. Angela had saved him, he should be grateful, he owed her his life. But he could not help but feel angry, angry that he had been reduced to this quivering, weak thing who's name used to strike fear, but now meant nothing. Now Smith did not mean leader, now Smith did not mean a force to be reckoned with, Smith no longer meant death. The Angel of Death is what he had been back then, he had delivered many a death, swift and merciless, but now he was wingless. Even the Angel of Death needed his wings.

A bird cawed loudly in the air, and Smith wished for his Desert Eagle. He pictured it vividly inside his mind, aiming upwards towards that false, gleaming sun, and firing, killing the miserable being and watching it plummet. He smiled, but there was no real happiness there.

A harsh, crisp wind blew and Smith shivered. For the first time Smith realized he was alone here. The scenery he could see stretched for miles, but he could not see her.

He was suddenly very afraid; paranoia ruled the roost inside his mind. _What if it was a trap?. What if she tricked me, and lead me to this nowhere place, just so I could be ambushed by thousands of Rebels while I sit here, cross legged and defenceless?. _

A rustling came from behind him, his heart leaped into his throat, and he was almost certain he would see Shadow or someone standing behind him with a gun, that crazy look in his eye.

What it was, was a little girl.

Smith almost fainted with relief, and regarded then girl with curious eyes.

"Who are you?." She asked, sounding older than she looked.

"I am Smith. Who are you?. What is this place?."

"This place is nowhere you should be, evil is not welcome here."

"Evil?. I bring no evil, child."

"Then why do you look like them, the bad men?. You have their suit, you even look like them a bit, and the only thing missing is the ear piece and the glasses out of your pocket and onto your face."

Smith was shocked. The Agents had chased this girl?. To the new Smith, who accepted his humanity reluctantly, and tried to analyse his new emotions, thought this was cold. The old Smith, who was still there, buried inside his mind, told him that it was their line of duty, and that he would've done the same if the Mainframe asked it of him.

"I used to one of them, but I'm not one of them any more. I betrayed them, so I am Exiled."

The girl said nothing for a while; she just stood there regarding him with her suspicious eyes.

"Prove it." She said stubbornly, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"And how would I do that?." He asked, but the little girl never got to answer, a voice called strongly and interrupted any response.

"Amber!." The voice called. "Leave him alone!."

She took one more suspicious look at Smith, before running to the woman.

Smith turned to see Angela. The paranoia, which had been almost engulfing, retreated with its tail in between its legs.

"Sorry about her." Angela said, holding the girl with one arm.

"What is this place?." He asked, his eyes frightened.

"Let me show you." The girl said.


	17. Soulless

**Disclaimer: I own none of the Matrix.**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. **

This place was at one point, beautiful. Smith could see the old beauty of the place lurking in the shadows, like some hungry animal, hunting its prey. Now it was devoid of that charm, now it was just a nameless, charm less forest with trees, mountains and rivers that once upon a yesterday, must've made many an Exile stop and appreciate its beauty.

The sky was a pale and nondescript blue, the clouds shapeless wisps rolling across with falseness. Birds tweeted and twittered in the trees, animals Smith could not identify by sound scuffed and scraped in the underbrush. It was a cold, crisp day, even though it should've been warm, the sun was a full, blazing orange in the sky.

Apart from the sound of the animals, and their footsteps, there was no noise. None of them spoke, the little girl – Amber, he reminded himself, was leading the way in silent suspicion, while Angela followed, not even glancing his way.

"As you can see, this is a place where no evil is welcome. Evil could not see the truth in this place, evil could not look upon its vast valleys and towering mountains without feeling boiling hatred and an urge to destroy. We created this place, the exiles who wanted to live and love in peace, away from the chasing footsteps and the grating noise. Do you feel hatred against this place, Smith?." Amber said, halting suddenly and regarding him with dull suspicion.

"No." Smith said carefully. "I do not hate this place, how could I?. There is nothing to hate, it is peaceful here."

Amber simply stood there, looking at him carefully before continuing walking.

"You should not be here, Agent. You may no longer serve the Machines, but you are still a threat, you could bring them here --"

"— Amber!. Enough. He is no evil, he is human, he has some form of soul, he is not guided by programming anymore. The Agents have _never _found us, even when we had some of the most wanted Exiles, so stop lying you spiteful child!." Angela spat, breaking in.

"Excuse me, Angela, but I'm simply looking out for us."

"Yeah well, you don't have to be such a bitch about it."

"I think my being a 'bitch' is justified, when, by letting this Agent into this place, we are putting ourselves in danger."

"Not really, Amber. You may view yourself highly but you're being small minded. You don't even think for a second that Smith means no harm, and that he may be very helpful for us."

"Fine." Amber said dryly. "If you are wrong, Angela, it will be on your head."


	18. Welcome To Hell

**Disclaimer: I own none of the Matrix.**

**A/N: Thanks for the comments and support. And I'm glad you like it so much, Selina.. that means a lot to me. **

Amber had finally left, leaving him and Angela alone in a small clearing, surrounded by fragrant pines and trees and bushes that Smith couldn't recognize.

Animals constantly cawed, growled and scraped in the thick shadows of the trees, and all this activity was beginning to grate on Smith, he wished for the constant grind of the city, the sweep of the car, the honk of the horn, the shouts of violence and frustration. At least these sounds were familiar, in the depths of these glades, he did not know how to react, or how he was going to sleep, which he would have to do now, much as he hated the thought of it.

Amber was building a fire, not speaking, not even looking at him. Smith felt vastly uncomfortable, he felt he should say something. _But say what?,_ he wondered. _Make small talk?._ Smith's mind went blank, and his mouth tightened at the thought of making such brainless, meaningless conversation.

Finally, Amber sighed from deep within, and lit the fire with a match. She finally looked at him, but Smith did not wish for her to look at her any more, that drawn, frightened look on her face was worse than the cold, blank silence.

"What's wrong with you?." Smith finally asked, not liking the shaky sound of his usually smooth, confident voice.

"Nothing.." She said, looking away. "Amber... she made me think. You're not exactly going to be accepted here."

"Well... I could leave. If I am not welcome, I would not wish to stay, I don't want to be a thorn in yours, or anyone else's side."

"No!. No, I don't want you to leave... it's not safe anywhere else. If people don't want you... they'll... they'll have to lump it... anyone who has good in their heart is welcome. And I see good in you, Smith."

Smith was silent; he didn't know what to say. He had no good in him, he knew that, it was in his programming... or whatever you call that when you're a Virus, to be evil. But if Amber was to be believed... evil could not look upon this place without wanting to destroy. And yet he felt strangely numb. But this meant nothing; Smith would not believe he was no longer evil simply on the basis he did not want to destroy this place.

It meant nothing, nothing at all.

Angela stood up, brushed her hands on her trousers, which had changed from the jet-black material it had been in the Matrix, to a simpler, Zion-style wool garment.

She moved away, smiling weakly before moving away silently, leaving Smith apparently alone with the cracks and spits of the fire.

Then, a twig snapped behind him. Smith did not turn but he straightened up, listening hard, straining his ears, listening for the pop of another twig or a rustle of the trees.

Then it came, from directly behind him. He turned slowly, using the slowness to create the illusion to whoever it was, that he was not afraid and that he would go down fighting.

He turned full circle, and it was only Shadow, standing behind him, looking worried, his face drawn and popping with sweat. His hair fell wildly around his face, and his eyes would not settle on one spot.

"Shadow, what are you doing here?."

He panted, clutching at his stomach and his eyes racing around and scanning his surroundings in that unsettling way.

"Got... accused." He breathed deep, and that seemed to gather him some control, because his eyes settled firmly on Smith's face. "Locke, he said I was in on Angela rescuing you, that I helped plan it, or some bull shit. So.. he called me a traitor, I got exiled, and here we are, man."

"Welcome to hell." Smith said, grinning brightly.


	19. Tables Turned

**Disclaimer: I own none of the Matrix**

When Angela returned, with a dead Deer slung over her shoulder and a thin sheen of sweat on her face, she was nothing short of surprised when she saw Shadow, who as far as she knew, was one of the Enemy, sitting next to Smith with his legs crossed and his face drawn white and thoughtful as he absently tossed small sticks into the fire she had made.

"Shadow, Shadow, Shadow. Who you double-crossed now?." Angela asked, smiling smugly as she advanced towards the orange glow of the fire.

"Happy to see me, Ange?." He said, regarding her with his insane eyes.

"Yeah, it just brightened up my fuckin' day. Why are you here?."

"Locke decided that I was "in on" you rescuing Smithie, and that I helped plan it and some other paranoid bullshit. So here I am, Ange."

"I could kill that man sometimes. Well.. I don't trust you and I don't like you, but you're here now, and here's where you're gonna stay, then at least I can keep an eye on you and your loose mouth." Angela said as she placed the deer carcass on a smooth, nameless rock and began to skin and gut it.

"Do you hear that?." Smith asked suddenly, looking around, his eyes flicking nervously from one place to the next.

"What?. All I hear is the wind, big boy." Shadow said, thinning his eyes at Smith.

"Listen, you fool."

Shadow made no verbal response; instead he cocked his ear in a listening position, but still hearing nothing but the wind whistling through the trees.

"Like I said, just the wind, man."

"I hear it." Angela said, standing up sharply.

"What is it?." Shadow asked, concern finally dawning on his face.

"Sounds like an argument. Voices." A pause, and then they all heard it.

The sound of an approaching mob.

Angela's eyes widened a little as a large group of Exiles were making their way towards the group's camp.

"Just leave." Smith barked. "It's obvious why they are coming, so I will deal with them."

"No." Angela said, and then turned towards the approaching group, face stern and ready for the confrontation.

A young man, tall and handsome with his long black hair slightly windswept, approached the group with an odd aura of serenity.

"We don't want no trouble." He said softly. "We just came for the loose mouth."

"What do you want with me?." Shadow asked quietly, hiding in the shadow of a tall, sweet smelling pine.

"You ain't welcome here, we don't want double-crossers here. Knowing you, Shadow, you'll tell Smithie's friends how to get here and how to kill us all. In fact, Smithie's probably in on it as well."

"Enough." Angela snapped, and made her way to the handsome young man. "Take Shadow, I don't trust him any more than you, but Smith will not go anywhere, not while I'm still breathing."

"Why, Ange?. You got a thing for Mr. Program?. You wanna touch him?." The young man said, turning towards his group and laughing.

"No. He has been exiled, and isn't this the home away from home for Exiles?. Just because he used to be an Agent, he is not welcome?. Haven't we had other programs here before?."

The young man, now stood silent and only spoke with his eyes.

_You will not stop me, I mean to have him_ is the message Angela got from his dark browns, but she didn't even entertain the possibility of giving in to him.

"Just let us see if he is as true as you say he is. If we see that he means to live in peace in our little pocket of the world, then you have my word, in front of all these people, that he will go free."

Anger rose up inside her like a spitting, raging fire, but before she could even think of how to react, Smith was moving towards them, seemingly unafraid.

"What are you _doing_?." Angela hissed, unbelieving.

"I mean them no harm, I mean this place no harm, if they wish to test me, then so be it. I don't believe I've ever failed a test."

Angela was about to protest, but two bulky young men moved forward and grappled with Shadow, before leading them both to Angela believed was surely death.

When she could no longer even hear their voices or see their shadows stretching thinly across the horizon, Angela sat heavily on the dry ground and surprised herself by beginning to cry.


	20. Agent Interrogated

**Disclaimer: I own none of the Matrix.**

The tears had gone; they had left her in peace, for now. Angela could still feel them brimming up inside her, like foam rising inside a shaken bottle. She tried to fight this absurd feeling that kept trying to engulf her in its blackness, the feeling that she would never see Smith again. Or if she did, it would only be his head on top of a spike, his eyes wide with their final scream, for all to see.

_That's ludicrous_ She tried to tell herself, but the feeling was relentless.

Eventually she gave in, accepting the fact that Smith had sent himself to a grim death, of which tales of horror would be told, beside the beds of terrified, pale faced children.

-

As Angela sat in a deserted clearing, with the shadows of doubt surrounding her, all Smith could see was light, a great blinding light. It reminded him of the light which should've deleted him, it reminded him of death.

_I'm dead._ A thought echoed, then a great ringing slap stung his face and the light disappeared, but its shape floated in front of him for a long time.

"This scene familiar to you, Smith?." A voice said, seeming to come floating out of nowhere in the darkness.

Smith looked around, and the situation he was in started to come to him, three hunched, shadowy figures became apparent. He looked around, and nodded slightly.

Yes, this was very familiar indeed.

"I recognize it." Smith said smoothly. "Our version of this was slightly more... sophisticated, but I believe the basic concept is the same."

The man who had spoken leaned forward slowly, and into the shadowy, grey light. Shadows streaked across his face and made the grin pasted across his lips look quite sinister. Smith did not speak, did not move, he was not afraid. It was different to be on the other side of the interrogation, but he was confident. Unlike all the Coppertops and Rebels he had interrogated and bugged, he had nothing to hide.

"Before we begin, Smith, I'd just like to inform you that we are all armed. So don't try anything clever, hoss."

Smith said nothing; he only sat there calmly regarding him with his blue gaze that eerily reflected the milky light streaming through the crack that was laughingly called a window.

Two figures stepped into the light, two males who were muscle bound and hard-faced came into view. Smith guessed this was their stab at intimidation. He brushed his hand over his mouth to hide a smile.

_This is going to be interesting. Very interesting indeed. _He thought, as the shadowy man glared at him in the dark, preparing to try and catch Smith out with blood on his hands.


	21. Paranoia Rules

Darkness came, and brought great fear in its looming shadows and mysterious sounds.

Fear gnawed at and haunted her mind, and she shivered in the numbing cold as she waited.

This outcast land had been oddly quiet, as if it was waiting for some sound to occur, to fill the world with its horrid, jagged tones.

Angela was expecting a sound too, the sound as the mob dragged Smith from their primitive Interrogation room, screaming and undoubtedly gagging on his own blood, as the Interrogators relentlessly hauled him towards the darkest place in the forest. Where he would die, and die noisily, his ragged screams of horror and pain not only breaking the silence but shattering it, like thin glass.

She had waited for hours, and she was now almost constantly shivering, even though she had wrapped two frayed sheets around her. Angela didn't care; she would sit out here all night if she had to, even though the night was bitterly harsh.

At some point, exhaustion won, and she fell asleep as she waited, sitting on a worn, flat rock, her chin gently settled on her chest.

During her deep, weary rest, Smith returned, slowly, minding the twigs and branches which tried to get under his feet, for he could see Angela sleeping, and understood that she had fallen asleep waiting for him. He did not wish to wake her.

As he drew closer to the rough camp, closer to the sleeping, exhausted figure that was Angela, a branch managed to get under him and it whip cracked loudly as it broke, echoing sharply around, and her head snapped up violently.

Smith stood still, looking at her thoughtfully.

"Smith..." She said dazedly, getting up groggily from the rock.

She staggered towards him, her mind still half asleep, that half still trapped in the nightmare she had been having, and Smith saw that she was going to fall.

He stepped closer to her, with all the reflexes of a cat, and steadied her with a strong, sturdy arm as her feet tangled together and threatened to spill her onto the packed dirt of the forest floor.

She looked at him with awe and surprise, still being held up by his strength, and touched his face wonderingly.

"You're... you're alive." She said quietly, her eyes wide, her mind still trying to tell her she was dreaming. Of course this was a dream, only a dream could hold the possibility of Smith coming out alive.

"Yes." He said smoothly. "What did you expect?."

She looked away from him then, and shook her head slowly, as if she were trying to shake all the sleep from her mind.

When she finally looked up at him again, she seemed more awake, and seemed to realize that _this was actually happening_.

"Frankly, I expected you to be killed. I could see in their faces that was what they had set themselves to do, whether you were innocent or not. But... they... let you go." Angela said, frowning.

"Yes, they did. They questioned me; saw that I meant this place no harm, and that all I meant to do was live out my Vi... human life here in peace. They wanted to kill me, that was true, I saw it, like you did. But they did not. They have some respect for life, obviously, because, they had no reason to kill me, so they did not."

Angela smiled, clearing away the gloomy, weary shadows that had been residing there.

"What happened to Shadow?." She asked, but she was afraid she knew the answer.

"I don't know. They took him to a separate place."

She nodded grimly, but said nothing.

"Come on." Smith said comfortingly, pulling her gently as he walked towards the camp. "You waited for me... but now you shall rest."

Smiling but saying nothing, Angela allowed herself to be lead towards the camp in the thickening darkness.


	22. Fresh As The Wind

**Disclaimer: I own none of the Matrix.**

**A/N: So sorry for the amount of time this has taken me... I had no time in the holidays, but I'm back at college now, so yeah! Regular updates. **

Angela sat up till dawn that night, despite her weariness. She sat there, brooding in the dark, looking up at the clouds as they floated serenely above her.

She simply sat there, trying to think of nothing, but instead thinking of everything. Her mind was racing, beating at her consciousness with emotions she did not want to feel.

Angela glanced nervously at the sleeping figure that was Smith, her stomach churning as her heart filled with a reluctant, nervous affection.

Grimacing at the bitter wind which blew at her face, Angela put her hands over her face, and waited for these irrational, unwanted feelings to disappear.

From the feel of it, she would be waiting in the cold all night.

When the sun rose over the horizon the next day, Angela was able to put last night's gibbering into some sort of perspective.

_Of course I'm feeling for him, _she thought as she walked in the tangy freshness of the forest at first daylight, _I'm only human, after all. Mostly, anyway. A little crush means nothing; it'll blow itself out, like a briefly passing storm. Just like when you were younger and had a crush on your teacher. _

_Stop kidding yourself,_ a bitter voice spoke up in her mind suddenly, _right now. You know what you're feeling, and no amount of rationalising is going to change it. _

"Morning" A voice said from over her shoulder, and Angela had to bite her tongue to stop herself from screaming.

She whirled, teeth bared in a desperate, dog like snarl, expecting some enemy standing there in the brightening light of dawn, but saw only Smith, looking at her calmly.

"Smith... you scared me" Angela breathed, once her heart had started beating again.

"Sorry" He said smoothly, and smiled thinly. "I wouldn't have expected you to be the jumpy type."

"Oh, I'm not, normally. I was just... you know, lost in my own world."

Smith made no reply to that; he only stepped closer to her, so close that she could begin to smell the scent of his skin and hair. She swallowed, and put an arm around herself, as if she were cold.

"I just realized I hadn't thanked you..." He drawled, growing closer to her still.

"For what?" She asked nervously, looking up at him as he drew closer, her heart thudding against her rib cage.

Silence from the ex-Agent, he only drew closer, so close the smell of him was all but surrounding her, and she could feel his hand brushing against her as he moved.

Every part of her, every part of her rationality, was rising up against this, shouting, _screaming_ at her, to stop this, _stop this RIGHT NOW_, before something irreversible happened, but her legs stood still, she was frozen into place, she could not take her eyes from his.

Smith drew closer, the leaves rustling as he moved, and simply looked at her.

"What?..." Angela began, but before another breath could even be drawn, Smith had stopped her lips with a kiss.

Her eyes widened as his soft and full lips made contact with her own, her breath stopped in her throat. After a few seconds, her coil of surprise disappeared, and she closed her eyes, kissing him back while taking in his scent.

She didn't know what he smelled like, but he smelled _fresh_. That much she was sure of.

The kiss broke, and she looked up at him, her breath pluming out in front of her as they stood there in the cold silence of dawn.

"That was my thank you" Smith said, and put his arms around her, kissing her again.


	23. The Lurking Darkness

**Disclaimer: I own none of the matrix.**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys... Also, sorry for my stupi dmistake of posting it to the wrong story... **

They lay together in the dark, shivering against each other as the wind gusted its icy breath upon the Exile land.

They were not sleeping; they were not even close to sleep. The idea of sleep in this bitter cold was laughable. Yet they did not speak to each other, and spooning was likewise absent from their minds.

They only lay there, sharing each other's warmth, thinking their thoughts, not hearing the brisk _rustle-crunch_ of someone – or something – approaching through the shadowy underbrush.

A few long hours had passed, and Smith had actually been on the rim of sleep when something sharp and deadly cold slipped against his throat.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes on the darkness.

The person looming above him was but another thick and ominous shadow among others lurking and grinning around him. He could not even begin to make it out.

"Proper cosy, ain't you?" The lurking shadow said.

Smith said nothing. He only lay there, silently hoping – praying – that the moon, stars, _something_ damn it, would shine the light, and turn this grinning presence into a person.

"Yes," The lurking shadow continued, "Real coooozey, snuggling up warm. Mayhap even a feel up for your penny, eh?"

The lurking shadow shifted, lending more pressure the deadly cold object placed against Smith's throat, and then Smith saw the face of the charming apparition looming above him.

Not a shadow, but Shadow.

He grinned at Smith, looking more like a monster now that Smith could see his face, and the pure, tyrannical insanity that flowed from it.

Angela stirred against him but did not wake.

"What is it you want?" Smith asked quietly, speaking so because he had no desire to wake Angela, because her wakefulness would put _her _in danger. Smith ignored the interior horror oozing through his blood because of such caring, and looked up into Shadow's insane profile.

"What do I _want_, he asks, what do I _want_?" His eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

"I think it's pretty obvious what I want, don't you? You just as dead as dogshit and that woman next to you to be mine."

Smith said nothing.

Shadow looked away for a moment, the faint starlight gleaming in his eyes, turning them the colour of tarnished silver.

Smith took his opportunity.

Angela was awake. She had stirred against Smith but kept her eyes steadfastly shut, not letting on that she was awake and she knew exactly who was whispering – and undoubtedly grinning – and mocking Smith in the dead of night.

Anger bubbled and raged inside her, threatening to overspill.

_Keep your cool, Ange. Keep your cool. Wait. And when the time is right..._

Unbeknownst to either Smith or Shadow, one of Angela's fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms.

Laying there, listening to the wind howl above the ground, taking the autumn leaves up in scattered whirlwinds as it went, listening to Shadow as he ranted.

_Oh, Shadow, I'm going to make you sorry. _

Angela opened her eyes to thin slits, every other part of her as still as stone.

_Shadow was looking away. _

A wide grin totally devoid of humour flashed out on her face, and Angela sat up with the speed of a snake, pouncing.


	24. Heads I Win, Tails You Lose

-1**Virus 24**

Shadow looked away momentarily, and weighed up his options in his mind. There was nothing on the conscious level about this - nothing very considered or even coherent, just a rhythmitic thumping cycle of; _kill or not? Kill or not? Kill or not?_ - but in his subconscious, all the cogs were turning, his insanity burning in his mind like a physical fever.

However, even his hotly churning subconscious didn't get far before he saw, in the corner of his eye, whirling movement, and a flash of silver.

Shadow turned, snake-like in his quickness, and saw both Smith and Angela lunging for him.

Reacting instantly, Shadow turned his body around so that his vulnerable chest area was not easily accessible, and held his knife out, the blade glittering dangerously.

Angela's eyes widened, and although Shadow thought it was because she hadn't expected him to be armed, it was actually because even she was surprised at the speed of his reaction. She hadn't even seen him move, precisely. One minute he was looking away, his body exposed to all and sundry, the next he was looking at her knowingly, with his knife held out before him.

Although she had noticed much within this time - it was about the space of ten seconds - she did notice Smith change the direction of his lunge to the side, moving like a liquid dream. Her eyes were fixed solely on Shadow, and her mind concentrated on nothing but her fierce desire to wipe that _heads-I-win-tails-you-lose_ expression from his face.

Smith got there before her, but barely.

-----

Smith collided with Shadow full force, connecting with a solid _thud_ that made Angela think fleetingly of someone she had seen jump from a tall building when she had been a Coppertop. The sound was very like them hitting the pavement.

Shadow's arm, the one holding the knife, jerked towards Smith, and cold, delicious rage filled Angela instantaneously, her fist a strained hard lump that just happened to be connected to her arm.

Finally, after what had seemed to be an eternity of years, Angela's fist connected firmly to Shadow's face.

Angela had not put any real force of her own making behind the first, there was no need for it. The laws of Momentum would help her out, and the force of her whole body behind the cocked fist would be enough.

It was.

Shadow was thrown backwards violently, tumbling Smith off to the side, who landed harmlessly on the grassy earth.

Shadow had a less lucky landing.

At the point where Shadow had been crouched, the soft and fluffy earth of the forest gave way to the much tougher terrain of a rock path that wound up slowly through sparse growth, towards a set of sinister peaks.

His head connected squarely with the unforgiving stone, and the sickening _thud_ that had reminded Angela of suicide rang out again, but was, this time, decorated by Shadow's shriek, hitting the landscape and been thrown back to them, as if nature did not want to hear it.

The rest of his body tumbled after him, and he landed awkwardly, in a sprawl.

Angela landed a split second after him, also on the harsh ugly terrain of the rock path, but her fall was broken by her stomach rather than her head, as it was with Shadow.

She wasn't hurt, but all her breath flew out of her in a gush, and she lay there almost helplessly, gasping like a fish out of water.

Although he didn't, if Shadow had chosen that moment to regain consciousness and attack, she would have been helpless to stop him.

Smith arrived at her feet, looking concerned.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, the worry sounding very out of place in his usually blank voice.

Still with her breath coming in large unladylike whoops, Angela nodded, gesturing with her hand for him to help her up.

His grasp warm against hers, he lifted her gently.

Almost immediately she stood up, gently wavering on her feet, and went to Shadow.

He lay splayed against the rock path like a gruesome spray of blood, looking very much like his name in the cloak of the night.

She nodded imperceptibly, and after a few moments of looking, found Shadow's life near his sprawled body, a deadly silver gleam in the darkness.

She looked at Smith, her eyebrows raised, and he didn't ask questions, he nodded himself, following her when she moved towards Shadow, moving the knife deliberately so the faint scrim of moonlight flashed silver lightening up and down the blade, making it look live a living artery of metal.


	25. Hello, Darkness My Old Friend

-1Angela approached Shadow in small, sneaking steps. She made no sound; she did not rustle one leaf, surprise one animal into startled movement.

The knife gleamed in the cold light of the moon.

She reached the body, laying there so still in the soupy dark, unmoving except for the barely visible rise and fall of the chest.

Grinning grimly, grinning like a corpse, Angela knelt beside the splayed shape that had once been both a friend and an enemy, and brought the knife's deadly silver gleam toward his throat.

Silent and ghostly himself, Smith stood silently, watching, fascinated by the glammer of the kill that was approaching.

With the knife only a centimetre away from Shadow's vulnerable throat, Angela stopped, looking at Smith, seeming to consider something.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice low and husky.

"I have a better idea, but I need you to help me."

"Yes?"

Angela stood up, her knees cracking like gunshots, and began to explain her plan in hushed, grim tones.

-------

Blackness. Yes, he had always known it would end in blackness.

Dark was the only thing that was eternal.

It had been present at the world's beginning, it had ruled as Lord High Executioner when the foolish humans had blotted out the sky, changing the world forever.

And now he knew, darkness waited for all at the end.

But, if he was truly at his end, then why could he feel the ground beneath him, like a distant whisper? Why could he feel, also far away and dim, the throb of where he had hit his head?

_Unconscious..._ A small, distant voice whispered, deep in the dark insane reaches of his mind.

As if the whispering voice had caused it, his floundering mind rose to the waking world, and was greeted by a viscous blast of pain that seemed to rip his skull in two.

_Hi, howaya! _The pain seemed to yell. _So solly, Cholly!_

Barely aware that he was doing it, barely aware of anything except what had happened to him concerning his head (but even that was slipping out of his grasp, like a fish greased with the slickest oil), Shadow gritted his teeth against the pain.

Echoing, as if the mock him and deliberately cause the steel-plated bolt of pain which grasped him and threatened to sent him unconscious again, he heard Angela's voice.

"Almost... when... rocks"

At the sound of her voice, his mind rose further into the waking world, beginning to shake off the last foggy dregs of his unconsciousness.

Finally, Shadows eyes opened to the darkness, and widened in horror and understanding at what they saw.

-----

Conveniently, Shadow had landed on the rocky path, and hence not too far from where Angela wanted to take him, so their work would be short.

Smith was dragging him along unceremoniously by a length of thick, crusty vine tied around his midsection, whilst Angela lit the way, flaming torch in hand.

"Almost there now" She called, her voice echoing in the rocky valley. "When we get there, I'll point out this little cluster of rocks. That's where I want him."

Breathing in long, thick gasps, Smith nodded, his head down on the cracked terrain of the path which Angela was leading him.

Shadow began to moan groggily, indecipherably, but neither of them noticed.

In the blazing core of light thrown by the torch Angela held gently touched up a sharp, rough circle of sinister rocks, which seem to laugh and jeer at the very night.

"Just in there, Smith."

Smith dragged Shadow behind him, said insanity twisting and turning and bumping on the rough cracks and holes of the path.

Finally, when it had seemed that the pain in Smith's new Virus body would be enough to drive _him_ insane, he had reached the clearing formed by the sharp rocks.

Smith put Shadow down, looking at the jeering rocks.

Blood. Scratches. More blood. That was all he saw, and the memory of what Angela had told him flew through his mind like a shiver.

_That path, _she had said, _it goes up for about two miles before hitting the mountains. But before that…there's a particular clearing. I don't know exactly what creatures live there, all I do know is that their den is often used as a…a point of sacrifice, if you like. You leave someone there, the Things, they… sniff them out, and if you were to go there the next day… nothing but blood and bones. Nothing more than Shadow deserves, wouldn't you say?_

Looking fixedly at the deep gored scratches somehow cut into the strong rock of the place, Smith thought it was a fit punishment indeed, although some deeper, fresher part of him whispered in the night that it was not.

He turned to look at Angela, she was looking off into the mountains with a distant, pained expression on her face.

"Angela?" Smith asked, smoothly as ever.

Her gaze snapped to him, her mind obviously torn from a very vivid - although unpleasant - memory.

"You rest, Smith. I'll tie him, and then we'll go, because if we stay much longer…" That corpse-grin flashed out at him. "We may be the main course after Shadow."

Gratefully resting against a nearby boulder, Smith nodded, with that voice still whispering deep inside him, unheard by his conscious mind.


End file.
